


Hint of Pepper

by lanalucy



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Community: bsg_kink, Cross-Posted on LiveJournal, Diary/Journal, F/M, Masturbation, No Dialogue, Revelations, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 22:14:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1202485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanalucy/pseuds/lanalucy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written as a pinch-hit for Kinky Valentine that ended up being extraneous.</p><p>Thanks to newnumbertwo for the beta!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hint of Pepper

Lee walked down the corridor, flipping through the pages in his folder, making sure nothing in this packet needed to be delivered to anyone else. The next sheet was paperclipped to other sheets behind it, and was handwritten. As he began to read it, his eyebrows climbed toward his hairline.

_The young man - well, nearing thirty, so perhaps not so young - looked at her with well-disguised lust in his eyes. She though, being a woman of a certain age, had learned to read those signals even when well-hidden. She considered the possibilities before her._

_The father was certainly attractive, and well-matched to her intellectually, and she could not deny that she felt a tingle on the rare occasions when his skin touched hers, whether in public or in private. His interest was just as clear as his son’s, though perhaps less prurient, unfortunately._

_The son, however, was both smart and seductively beautiful. He was built like ancient Tauron statues, sculpted lovingly by some creator for both function and allure. Astonishingly intense blue eyes, and always proper and correct with her, even as those eyes made crystal clear his less than gentlemanly desires. Resisting the temptation to discover how improper he could be was a constant test of her will. She longed to lean in, just that tiny bit too much, and taste his skin. He would taste like the most expensive chocolate, she’d decided, dark and with a hint of a bite from the pepper. Yes. Sweet and spicy._

Lee stood in the corridor, completely oblivious to the people pushing past him, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and his pants uncomfortably tight. He wasn’t sure how this had ended up in the folder he’d picked up on _Colonial One_ , but he was positive it wasn’t meant for his eyes. He wasn’t going to stop reading, but he damn sure wasn’t going to do it in the corridor. He straightened his shoulders and continued toward his office and quarters.

He unbuttoned his jacket and tossed it on the chair, then continued into his quarters. Sweats would definitely be more comfortable. He set the folder on his rack, keeping his eye on it, as if he thought it would disappear when he wasn’t looking. Finally, he pushed the pillow up against the head of his rack and settled in to continue reading.

_The father would be spicy, too, but more like coffee than chocolate - more bitter than spicy._

Okay. Not something he needed to imagine about his dad. Thanks, anonymous writer. He flipped the page.

_Back to the son. Pale skin - paler than his father’s. And if she were lucky, sprinkled with freckles she could use as a roadmap for her tongue. Just looking at him gave her a buzz. She especially enjoyed watching him walk away, though the front view was obviously equally compelling._

Lee stopped for a moment. Clearly this was written about him and his father, not even the most miniscule attempt to disguise the players. As far as he knew, the only woman his father had shown any interest in was Laura Roslin. So had Laura written this? This didn’t sound like her, but maybe when she was talking to herself, she used more dreamy language? Maybe someone else had written it and was trying to make it sound literary?

The thought of Laura writing this was both off-putting and enticing. Comparing him to his father, but with him currently coming out on top, so to speak. And that last line made it sound very much like she’d been checking out his ass. He looked at his arms. Tongue. Tracing freckles like a road map. No one had ever done that - she could be first. He had a feeling he’d like it, if the swelling in his briefs was any indication.

_She hadn’t missed the sparks between he and the young woman - she just believed her age gave her certain advantages her competition didn’t have. When they happened to both be in the vicinity of the son, she was secretly thrilled that she held his attention over someone younger, firmer, and much more available. If all he wanted was a quick slaking of his physical needs, his friend would have been the easier choice, but all evidence indicated that neither had made a move to resolve the tension between them. She didn’t much care why, as it meant that if she had the courage of her conviction, he would tumble right into her more than willing arms._

She thought him frakking Kara would make things _easier_ between them? He shook the thought off. He could fantasize about Kara some other time.

_Should she? Dare she? If she did, how would she make her interest known? Perhaps a meeting with her ‘advisor’ would be the most expedient plan. Once he was in attendance, she could make a point to let her hands linger as she passed him files, request he sit beside her so she could rub her bare legs against his pants-clad limbs. Would that be sufficient? Or would she need to be more direct?_

_Yes. Direct might be the way to go. Lean into him. Brush her hair back so that it tickled his face and neck. Stand beside him at the desk and push him into it with her hip as she pointed out changes that needed to be made. Slip slightly, and graze her palm over that delectable backside. Watch his skin flush. Watch his breathing become erratic. Watch him harden in his pants. She was positive that she would not be disappointed in that regard._

Well, Lee was hard right now, thinking about Laura Roslin grabbing his ass. He didn’t know what this was about,, but he did know that the next time he was summoned to _Colonial One_ he’d be on the lookout for Laura making her move. He would make sure both his father and Kara Thrace were safely snug on _Galactica_ before he went, too.

_How would the son respond, though? Would he press back into her hip, her hand, welcoming her touch? Or would he continue to hold tight to his propriety? Would she have to be more bold? Lean her ample breast into his bicep in an unmistakable bid for his attention?_

_Yes. Since this was all academic, she would be bold. She would wear her most revealing suit, the shortest skirt, and she would forgo both hose, which were in short supply anyway, and shoes. She would apply some of the scent she was saving for very special occasions - she’d been told it had a provocative effect on men when she wore it. She would dismiss her aides-de-camp, pull the curtain shut, invite him to sit on the couch. The smallest one. She would cross her legs, allowing her skirt to ride up, and she would place her hand on his thigh. She couldn’t wait to feel the muscles in his legs. They’d be granite. Of course, they’d be nothing to the granite behind his zipper._

_She’d stroke up his thigh and cup him, get a feel for the size of him. His interest, or lack thereof, would be undeniable at that point. He would most assuredly be interested, so she’d turn toward him, placing her other hand on his far arm, bringing it to her hip. She’d cross her leg over his, making her intentions very clear. She’d turn up her face, and he’d kiss her. He’d be careful at first, some misplaced sense of chivalry perhaps, so she’d open her mouth and invite him in._

Lee dropped the pages to his side, his palm pressing down on his cock, which was as she’d said, definitely interested. Gods. Laura Roslin, sitting next to him on that tiny couch, her bare thigh draped over his. If he turned toward her to kiss her, it’d be easy from there for his hand to glide under that skirt, up her thigh, for his thumb or fingers to find her nude underneath, to touch her, tease her. She’d be wet as frak, slick and slippery at the thought of frakking him. His fist closed around his cock, squeezed it through the sweatpants. Maybe he’d push her back toward the arm of the couch, slide that skirt up to her waist and feast on her, make her moan. His name, not his father’s. 

Then he’d pull down that side zipper, shimmy that skirt off her, unbutton her blouse and those fabulous breasts would be naked to his gaze. Who’d wear a bra if she were wearing her shortest skirt and no panties, right? He’d touch her, not too gently, because she probably liked it a little rough, liked to know that he was a little out of control with wanting her, liked to know that even though she was dying, he wasn’t going to treat her like she was breakable. 

He’d tell her how fantastic she smelled, he’d kiss her and whisper how much he loved the taste of her climax. He’d tell her that if he could, he’d eat nothing but her for the rest of his life. If he was lucky, she’d return the favor. She’d be delicate and dainty at first, exploring his length. He knew she wouldn’t be disappointed - Adama men...well, she’d be satisfied.

His hand pushed into his sweats - it was a poor substitute for Laura Roslin sucking him off, or him finger-frakking her to a screaming orgasm. In his mind, he could see the curtain twitching behind her, and his fantasy came to a screeching halt. It didn’t matter who was behind that curtain, the point was that anyone could be. Billy. Gaius Baltar. His father, even.

Frak. He couldn’t even have a decent wank without his father ruining it. 

He tried to get back to it, but he’d look over the smooth, pale, bare skin of her back and see that curtain moving. He picked up the papers again.

_He’d nuzzle his way down her neck to her breasts, and he’d lavish them with attention, unable to see the killer lurking beneath her skin. He’d squeeze and suckle until she moved her own hand between her legs to ease the ache. Of course, he’d stop her, tell her he’d take care of it, and his fingers would be firm, almost rough in their quest…_

He’d been right. She didn’t want someone to be overly cautious. She wanted to be unbreakable. So he’d treat her that way. Careful perhaps, but not gentle. He’d lick and suck and bite, leaving red patches where he sucked a little too hard or his late-day beard scratched her skin. They’d fade, but not so soon that she couldn’t look at them later and remember.

His tongue and fingers would bring her to orgasm again. 

Lee’s hand was gripping and skating up and down his shaft, envisioning the splay of her body, hearing the moans and growls of her arousal and satisfaction. With his head between her legs, he didn’t notice when the background of his fantasy changed. When he took his mouth off her and looked up, she was on the couch in _his_ office rather than hers. 

If he opened his eyes and craned his neck, he would just be able to see the edge of it, imagine one of her legs thrown over the back of it, the other over his shoulder. He kept his eyes closed instead, and his hand moved instinctively, bringing him to an unexpectedly hard climax, the papers crumpled in his left hand.

He cleaned himself up and went to his desk. He neatened the pages and put them carefully back into the folder. He found a blank piece of paper and wrote a note: _If I were writing this story, I think the woman might consider the possibility of interruptions in the current venue, and schedule future meetings with her advisor on his territory. He does have private quarters. With a hatch. That locks._


End file.
